


Not Anymore?

by SennexTheAssasinKingOfLight



Category: Cursed (TV 2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Awkwardness, First Meetings, Roommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-19 05:22:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29994540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SennexTheAssasinKingOfLight/pseuds/SennexTheAssasinKingOfLight
Summary: Gawain needs a place to live. Lancelot is looking for a roomate.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 9





	Not Anymore?

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy,
> 
> Just a short fic that popped into my head. This takes place in the same universe as Sunsets but before that story. Both can stand alone.

"Sorry." Gawain says softly, kneeling beside the grand piano and picking up the scattered papers. The sound of music cuts of abruptly the last discordant notes rining in the quiet room around them. "I didn't mean to startle you. It's just, you were playing so beautifully I didn't want to interrupt you."

He picks the stack of papers and the sketchbook up off the floor and hands them to the young man sitting on the piano bench. It takes him a moment to respond, eyes blown wide with fear or shock and rimmed with dark eyeliner. Peeking out from beneath the hood of his sweatshirt are dark curls. Gawain recognizes him from the english course he had last semester. Of course, that was the point. 

"Lancelot right?" He asks as he stands, papers still held aloft. Lancelot's eyes track the movement, deep wells of blue threatening to drown him if he looks any longer. Finally he let's go of the stack of papers in his hands certain they won't return to the floor. Lancelot nods at him. 

"What were you playing? I'm not sure I've heard it before." He asks in what he hopes is a conversational tone. Lancelot turns to the piano and folds down the cover. Then he stands, pushes his papers into his bag and steps behind the bench. Head bowed, turned away from Gawaine while he tucks the bench in. Lancelot responds quietly,

"You wouldn't have. I wrote it." The words are barely more than a mumble as he stares at the floor. "It's rubbish anyways. Sorry if I bothered you." He continues quickly thrusting his hands into his pockets as he turns to leave. 

"No it wasn't! Lancelot that was beautiful, just like the backdrop you painted for the play last semester." Oh, gods, had he just said that outloud. That was not how this was supposed to go. He wasn't supposed to know anything about this man. Now he probably seemed like a creep. 

Lancelot stops and looks over his shoulder at him, the look is somewhere between disbelief and a glare. Under its intensity Gawain can't stop himself from continuing. 

"I just didn't realize you were a musician as well as an artist." He smiles brightly and rubs the back of his neck nervously. This was going so well. 

"I'm not." Comes an off-handed and casual reply. 

"Sounded to me like you are." 

"Not anymore. I should go." Lancelot tucks his chin and holds his bag closer to his side. 

"Wait please. I'm sorry. It's just, uh well... I saw your ad on the bulletin board and recognized you from that English course last semester. I was going to text later but since I ran into you... Are you still looking for a roomate?" 

Lancelot turns back towards him, looks him up and down. Then worries his lower lip, rather adorably, between his teeth. Selfconsciously Gawain straightens his posture and fidgets with the strap of his backpack. He'd always found Lancelot attractive, but right now he feels a little like a trapped animal. Moments ago Lancelots eyes had been pools of refreshing water, now they were daggers made of ice, calculating and certain. 

With a stiff nod Lancelot breaks the tense silence between them,"Yeah, I am." 

Gawain settles his weight On his back foot, waiting. He's uncertain what the next step is.

"Soooo….?" He shifts his weight forward slightly. Its unlike him to be this outwardly nervous but Lancelot seems to calm as he observes the demeanor. 

Lancelot licks his lips then loosens the grip on his bag and shrugs. 

"I've still got boxes everywhere, but you could come check the place out. No one else has really been…." He pauses shrugs noncomittely again, " interested after meeting me." 

"Let's get coffee on the way." He responds with a smile. He needs a place, and Lancelot needs a roomate.

It's two days later as they're carrying boxes in that Lancelot asks him why he needed a place so desperately that he was already agreeing to anything Lancelot said about living arrangements halfway to the apartment. He sighs. Lancelot is not very talkative but when he does ask questions it's like he can see exactly what you don't want him too. 

"My parents kicked me out." He says simply, hoping that's the end of it. 

"Why?" The softness in Lancelots voice is starteling. It's quiet enough he could pretend he hadn't heard, instead it compels him to answer.

"I come from a long line of lawyers and politicians. I want to be a doctor. My parents didn't appreciate that very much, or that I'm not attending the school that they chose for me." 

Lancelot sets down his box on the dresser. And turns to him with scowl, head tilted to the side. He shakes his head and let's out a sigh. Whatever he was going to say he chooses not too. 

"That the last of it then?" He says instead and Gawain nods, just what he had acquired last semester in his dorm and what he'd been lugging around in his car after leaving home. 

"Lance? Maybe I'm prying a bit… but what did you mean not anymore? I saw your keyboard in the living room and I'm just curious. You dont have to tell me though.." He rushes out the last bit fast enough he almost stumbles over his words and Lance shakes his head softly.

"Quid pro quo huh?" Lancelot raises an eyebrow at him and then brushes invisible dirt from his band tee and crosses his arms. Gawain can only shrug and half turns to read the label of the box behind him. 

"I played with a group of friends from junior high through highschool. Only, I realized I wasn't a friend to them, just someone who could play the instrument they wanted played and design flyers and album art. I stopped playing after that." 

Gawain nods. They used him like a commodity, ignored his humanity and in the process stripped him of a joy and a talent. He hears soft foot falls as Lance curts back across the room. Gawain smiles and turns to Lance, now at the door.

"For whatever it's worth, I think you play wonderfully and you shouldn't let their mistreatment of you steal something you obviously enjoy." 

Lancelots eyes fall to the ground and he worries his lip, fidgets his fingers against the door jam. 

"I'll….consider that," anything else he was going to say cut off by Gawains phone dinging. 

"Ahh pizza guy is here. Says he doesn't know which apartment." 

"They never do." 

If it was possible to kill someone by rolling ones eyes, Lancelot would have done so as he left to find the delivery guy.


End file.
